


A Swing and A Miss

by runawaystar



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaystar/pseuds/runawaystar
Summary: Without his brother's brain or anyone's money, Ian knows that the only way he can be a college ball pitcher is by getting a baseball scholarship. But even with his work ethic and optimistic attitude, his goal feels more and more unattainable as days leave and obstacles come.When Mickey told his probation officer that as a kid, playing baseball always got his mind off of things, he expected a sympathetic nod and the end of a sleep-inducing conversation - not getting convinced to join a team.Still, taking a swing and risking striking out is better than never stepping up to the plate.





	1. Prologue

As fun as building castles from the gravel had been an hour ago, Ian had to admit the activity had begun to lose its charm.

He had been on a walk with Monica and Frank, and he supposed that was his first mistake. Even though Fiona warned him countless times that they weren't trustworthy parents, they were still his parents, and he wanted to spend time with them when he had a chance. After all, he never knew how long they'd stick around.

He walked in between them, both of them with one hand holding Ian's and the other holding a joint. The longer they walked and laughed together, the more silly his worries about Lip and Fiona's absence seemed.

When they were near the baseball diamond, Monica told him that they had to run an important errand and would be right back, and Frank bet Ian that he couldn´t climb half the height of the chain link fence surrounding the field. Ignoring the wary look he could imagine Lip would be giving him if he were standing beside him, he accepted the challenge and got to work.

Ian quickly learned that climbing the fence was a lot more difficult than it looked, and the jagged edges of the steel cut his hands all over. He used the sweat beading on his forehead to push his ginger hair out of his eyes, and he focused on climbing instead of the fact that Frank and Monica were nowhere to be seen.

When he made it halfway up the fence, Ian couldn't help the grin that broke out on his face. He could see his surroundings from a much better angle than he could at 4'8. He looked all around him, but there was still no sign of his parents. His smile fell. The sky, which had been sunny and inviting earlier in the day, was cloudy and dismal. He resigned himself to the fact that no one was going to see his achievement, and climbed down, deciding to play with the gravel covering the field instead.

It wasn't that this was the first time that Frank and Monica had pulled a stunt like this. Just over a month ago, Ian had found himself in a similar scenario when his parents left all five kids in a car so they could go get stoned. People driving by weren't eager to stop and let a gang of homeless-looking kids drenched in the rain into their car. Debbie and Carl were bawling their eyes out and he had no clue what to do, but luckily Lip had been able to find a map and navigate their way back to their house. This time, even if Ian had some sort of signal that he should start to give up on their promise to return, he didn't how to get home.

He knew that Fiona and Lip would have begun to worry about him by now. Still, there was no way for them to help him if they didn´t know where he was. He wasn´t sure if he knew how to read a map, let alone where to find one, but it was his only lead. He stood up from where he'd been lying in the gravel and began to dust himself off, only to feel his hands sting again from the cuts the fence had given him.

The bleakness of his whole situation began to wash over him and against his better judgement, he felt himself begin to tear up. He wiped his eyes so furiously that it took him a moment to recognize the sound of footsteps. _Frank and Monica?_

He turned in the direction of the sound to see not his parents, but rather another boy his age. His clothes were even more oversized and tattered than Ian's, and he held two baseball mitts in his hands. As the boy got closer, he could see the dirt smudged on his face and his stony expression. Undeterred, Ian started towards him.

"Hey!" he shouted, probably louder than necessary, waving his arms for good measure.

The boy noticed him and walked up to him in what Ian could've only described as the most intimidating manner possible until they were a few feet apart. "Do I know you?"

"Uh, I don't think so. I'm Ian Gallagher." Usually the surname "Gallagher" made a light bulb go off in most people's heads, as his parents were well known across the South Side - whether it be for good or bad reasons.

Surely enough, the boy recognized the name. "Gallagher... you Lip's brother?"

How would this guy know Lip? "Yeah, he's my older brother."

"He's in my class at school."

"Oh. Cool."

 The few moments of awkward silence between them felt like an eternity to Ian. If this guy went to his school, that meant he couldn't live too far from Ian's house. What he wanted more than anything was to bluntly ask him to help him get home, but he didn't seem like he was in a particularly helpful mood. Instead what came out was, "Why do you have two baseball gloves?"

He paused before answering. "My dad said he wasn't going to come, but I brought his glove just in case he changes his mind." There was a flash of sadness in his expression before the boy regained his composure, almost challenging Ian to dare to insult him. But Ian didn't miss it.

"I'll play catch with you!" he blurted out. What was he thinking? He had to get home! "As long as I can walk home with you after we're done."

The boy didn't respond, and Ian was starting to worry that he'd made the wrong choice when he said, "Have you ever played baseball before?"

"No," Ian admitted. "But I've watched it on TV a couple times."

"Who's your favourite team?"

The truth was, Ian didn't know much about baseball at all, and he really only knew one team. "The Chicago White Sox?" It came out more like a question than an answer, but he hoped it wasn't noticeable.

The other boy grinned in approval and pulled a ball out of the smaller glove, presumably his own, before tossing it to Ian.

Once he had the glove on, the boy threw the ball at him, and Ian managed to catch it with surprising ease. He felt a smile spread across his face in triumph as he pulled the ball out of the glove and threw it back. It was a bit off, but not bad for a first time.

"Huh," the boy looked down at the ball in his glove. "That's pretty decent."

"Thanks!" Ian exclaimed, the grin on his face unwavering.

"Hey, don't get fucking cocky," the boy smirked. "Might've been beginner's luck."

"What's your name?" Ian asked, feeling more comfortable than before.

He threw the ball back before saying, "Mickey. Mickey Milkovich."

 _This_ was Mickey - the delinquent that Lip had mentioned at the dinner table? This guy was a part of the family that Fiona had told them to watch out for? The family that seemed to have a member in and out of jail every other week?

Well, whoever he was, he also happened to be Ian's only shot at getting home.

"Cool name," he replied nonchalantly, throwing the ball back. He could've sworn that Mickey looked less tense than he had just a moment earlier.

They threw the ball back and forth between them for what must've been at least an hour, and Mickey told Ian everything he knew about baseball, from the rules to his favourite players. He said that he wants to be a catcher when he grows up and play for, of course, the White Sox. Ian didn't know someone could be so passionate and knowledgeable about a topic, except maybe Frank with booze.

"We should probably head back to our houses," Mickey said after he caught the ball for the umpteenth time.

Time had flown so quickly that Ian completely forgot that his parents left him for what must've over three hours now. He ignored how queasy his stomach suddenly felt and nodded his head, joining Mickey as they began to walk.

"Can you hold on to this for a sec?" Mickey asked, handing Ian the glove he had been using, the ball firmly tucked inside of it. He reached into his front pocket to pull out a beat-up box of cigarettes. He pulled one out and placed it between his lips before pulling a lighter out of the same pocket, lighting his cigarette. He took a drag, and then held it out to Ian.

Ian hesitated. Sure, he'd tried smoking a couple of times before when Lip managed to get his hands on some cigs, but he didn't want to make a habit of it.

Mickey scoffed. "You've gotta be, what, nine years old? Come on, Gallagher, you can't tell me you've never had a smoke before."

Ian grinned sheepishly, taking the cigarette from his hand. Clearly, not every assumption he'd made about the Milkovich family was a lie. Still, he figured that one smoke couldn't hurt him any more than the previous ones did.

It was quiet as they passed the cigarette back and forth for a while, before Mickey broke the silence, exhaling smoke before asking, "What exactly were you doing standing in the middle of the diamond?"

"Oh," Ian laughed awkwardly. "My parents left me there." Mickey raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by Ian rambling, "Well, I mean, they were coming back for me, but I guess they just got busy on their errand. I'm not mad or anything, and I'm sure they're fine. I would've been fine, too..."

Mickey looked unconvinced, but if he had any suspicions, he didn't mention them.

They reached a street that Ian recognized, and he felt a rush of relief. "Hey, I think I'm gonna head home from here. But I hope that we can hang out again!"

"Sure," Mickey said casually. "See you later."

Ian would've been offended by Mickey's lack of keenness, but he'd already figured out that Mickey wasn't a very expressive person.

Just as he was about to turn and finally go home, Ian realized that he was still carrying both gloves from earlier. "Sorry, I forgot to give your gloves back," he said, holding it out for him.

Mickey looked down at them for a few seconds before taking the larger of the two. "You can keep that one."  

"Really?" The glove was beaten and discoloured from overuse, and Ian couldn't help the excitement that bubbled up inside him as he looked at it and traced the stitching with his fingertips.

"Yeah, I've got a bunch of other old ones at home," Mickey explained, looking down at his dad's glove in his own hands and fiddling with it. "And if I can't use one of those, I'll just use this one. It's not like my dad uses it anyways." He paused. "Plus, your throw isn't that shitty, but you've gotta practice if you wanna be any good."

Ian let a toothy smile spread across his face. "Thanks so much."

Mickey nodded, giving a half-smile before turning around to walk home. Ian watched him go for a few moments before turning to walk to his house, his grin refusing to leave his face. Mickey defied all expectations Ian had of him from Lip's description, and giving him the glove was a bigger gesture than anything he could've verbally said.

Ian really hoped that he could stay friends with him.

Now that Ian was walking on his own with no distractions, he was forced to confront why he was in this situation to begin with.

 _If I tell Ms. Sperling my parents abandoned me, would that get me out of doing my homework?_ He only had to colour, but with the way his head had begun to spin, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his crayon steady between the lines. Were Frank and Monica planning on coming back at any point? If he had decided to stay put and Mickey never showed up, would he have had to sleep on the same gravel he had been playing with?

Kicking pebbles across the sidewalk as he walked, Ian decided on two things (well, three, including the fact that his homework would remain unfinished). The first was that Lip and Fiona were right; their parents didn't care about him, and he would never trust them again. The second was that despite everything else he was feeling, one thing was as clear as the scent of weed on his street - he needed to buy a baseball.

He approached his house and swung open the gate, climbing the few stairs in front of the entrance. He knocked on the door, and it opened almost instantaneously as he was greeted with Fiona's worried face.

"Ian?!" He was engulfed in an embrace that he gladly reciprocated.

"Is that Ian?" Lip yelled from inside the house.

"Yeah!" Fiona shouted back. She pulled him into the house as he saw Lip walk towards them from the kitchen, family phone in his hand, to join the hug.

When they finally let go, he was bombarded with questions from both of them.

"Where were you? Where are Frank and Monica? Did they leave you?"

"I can't fucking believe this!

"Language, Lip! How did you get home? What happened to your hands? Where'd you get a _baseball glove_?"

"Ian, _why_ would you leave the house with them after what happened last month?"

Ian should've been as worried as Fiona. He should've been as angry with his parents and himself as Lip was. Even Debbie and Carl, who were toddlers, seemed to have something to say as they babbled and played on the living room floor. But really, there was only one strong thought in Ian's mind.

_How do I become a baseball player?_


	2. Move Your Ass, Dude

**_SIX YEARS LATER_ **

Ian sat in math class, rapping his fingers against his desk as he blankly stared at the worksheet lying on his desk. Had they even learned this? Apparently so, because when he looked up to check if everyone was as confused as he was, he was greeted with the sight of his classmates diligently writing on their papers. Even Mandy Milkovich, who was more likely to skip class than attend it, seemed to know perfectly well what to do.

Minutes passed before Ian’s thoughts (or lack of them) were interrupted by his teacher, Mrs. Webber. “Mr. Gallagher? Perhaps you’d like to tell us what solution you came up with for question one,” she said, which was unusual, since she usually handed out worksheets, put her head on her desk, and went to sleep, oblivious to her students making a competition of shooting their crumpled papers into the garbage bin like basketballs.

He glanced down at his worksheet again, but any chance of him coming up with a last minute answer was ruined by the distracting feeling of his face turning as red as his hair because of the thirty pairs of eyes boring into him.

“Umm… I’m not so sure about this one, Mrs. Webber,” he said hastily. He looked back up to see her disapproving glare, complete with crossed arms and a shaking head. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sight of Lip strolling into the classroom, not bothering to apologize for the lesson he was disrupting.

“Ian! You’ve got to get up, man,” he said, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing for Ian to do. If Ian had a dollar for every time he’d heard Lip use that exasperated tone with someone, he’d have enough money to buy a North Side house with a white picket fence.

Ian was about to ask Mrs. Webber if he could leave the room to speak to his brother in private, since there had to be some sort of problem for Lip to randomly come into his class, when her face lit up, exclaiming, “Yes Lip, there’s the answer I was looking for!” As if commanded, every student in the class held up their worksheet for Ian to see. They’d all written some variation of “Ian, get up” underneath the first equation.

Everyone in the room laughed jovially, with the exception of Ian, who was too confused to react to anything going on. “No, but seriously, move your ass, dude,” Lip said after he was able to stop laughing, now visibly frustrated.

“Ughhhh, but I’m tired,” Ian moaned, feeling groggy. He felt his bed underneath him, and knew that this was no longer his dream-self speaking. He rubbed his bleary eyes to see that he was now in his room, Lip standing over him. He groaned before pushing himself up and sitting on his bed. “Geez, Ian, what took you so long? Everyone’s already downstairs.”

He slept in _again_. Ian’s dreams had been refusing to let his consciousness claim his mind all week long. He got up and started to change into whatever clothes were at the end of his bed. “Dude, I just had a really weird dream.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ian frowned, recounting it with ease. When he finished his story, he looked at Lip expectantly. Despite Lip referring to what he learned in his psychology course as “a load of bullshit and a waste of his time”, lately he’d been assessing everyone in the family’s problems as if he was Dr. Phil. Ian wasn’t one to read into dreams, but if anyone could or would, it’d be Lip.

“So basically, you didn’t know the answer to a math question and I did? Are you sure that was a dream and not just a memory?” Lip asked, grinning cheekily.

Ian scoffed, grabbing his pillow off of his bed and halfheartedly hitting Lip with it. “Couldn’t have been a memory. Mandy Milkovich was in class.”

“Definitely a dream,” Lip confirmed, smirking as he left the room and Ian followed, jogging down the stairs and entering into the chaotically organized kitchen of the Gallaghers.

Fiona prepared their lunches while Carl ate his breakfast and fed Liam, who was giggling in the high chair that every Gallagher had used when they were small. In the meantime, Debbie carried a plate with toast on it to the living room and placed it on the coffee table in front of Frank, who was passed out on the couch. She then went back to the kitchen table to forge his signature for a permission slip, discussing her field trip with Fiona. When Carl finished eating, Lip sat down to eat his own breakfast and continue feeding Liam, while Carl took his opportunity to leave the table and grab the baseball bat that hung off of the wall to put it in his backpack. Ian went into the kitchen to put a frozen waffle in the toaster for himself, and took over packing lunches into brown paper bags from Fiona, who rushed into the living room to take the bat out of Carl’s hands.

“No, no, no. The bat is for killing, not for taking to school,” she reminded him. That baseball bat had hung against the wall next to the staircase for so long that the wall looked empty without it there. They kept it there for protection, so whichever Gallagher answered the door would be able to defend themselves just in case whoever was on the other side wasn’t feeling too friendly.

Every morning was eventful and rushed, but there was a certain sense of familiarity and hominess to it that made Ian feel at ease. He’d rather that they all bustle around each other and be five minutes late than eat breakfast in silence.

***

Ian walked through the halls of his school to his first period History class like a zombie, but it was Monday morning, so everyone else looked just as brain-dead as he did. The lack of windows in his school didn’t allow for much light to reach students, and he felt like he was in jail as opposed to an educational facility. Of course, as he was often reminded when he described his school to his younger brother, Carl, jail _can_ be educational, depending on what you want to learn.

It was only when their principal, Mr. Symonds, spoke on the P.A. system in his usual dull, monotonous voice that a certain announcement made Ian perked up.

“Attention all boys interested in playing Junior Varsity baseball. The sign-up list will be posted after school outside the phys ed department, and tryouts will take place on Friday morning at 6:45.”

Almost instantly, Ian was filled with excitement. He didn’t get to play last year because he was suspended at the time and missed the tryout.

Ian wasn’t working at the Kash and Grab at the time, and the family was low on finances since Fiona’s waitressing job was their only real source of income. Unexpectedly, she was fired because the restaurant couldn’t afford to pay all of their waitresses, and Fiona was the most recent hire. The squirrel fund of ‘just in case’ money that they kept was running dry, and their electricity had been out for two days. They were lucky it was March, because they would’ve froze from lack of heating otherwise.

Lip confided to Ian that he made a plan to steal from the cash register in the cafeteria, but he would need Ian’s help, since it would involve at least two people to successfully distract all three ladies who work there. Whether it was consciously a part of his decision or not, it had been ingrained in Ian’s head since he was a kid that family sticks together no matter what, so he agreed to help with the heist. Lip had never made a plan that hadn’t worked before. Well, not until that day.

After they successfully took the money, they brought it home to Fiona, telling her to spend it on the groceries they needed (with the help of the countless coupons Debbie acquired) and the electric bill. When they refused to tell her where they had gotten the money, Fiona had clear reasons to be suspicious, even though they both swore that they wouldn’t get into any trouble. However, as much as she didn’t want to take it, there were few options left and they were all desperate.

The next day, as soon as the P.A. system buzzed to life and he heard “Lip and Ian Gallagher to the office, please,” Ian knew that they were done for. He took his time walking to the principal’s office, because he knew that Lip was a much better liar than he was and would be better off alone with the principal for a few minutes than Ian would. Sure enough, when he entered the office, Lip was already sitting across from the principal, who was leaning on his desk, clearly bothered.

As it had turned out, a teacher had been walking by the window that allowed someone to see from the hallway into the cafeteria, and saw Lip casually slipping dollar bills into his pockets, as Ian had only been acting as a lookout at the entrance. Lip’s efforts to argue with Mr. Symonds were futile; the teacher took photo evidence with their phone.

They were given two options: they could either pay back the money by the next day and they would receive no punishment, or they could pay back the money by the end of the school year and receive a two week suspension. He looked at them like he expected them to consult with one another, but they both knew there was no way they could bring in $152.47 by the next day.

“See you in two weeks, sir,” Lip said, standing up and leaving the office, as Ian gave a casual, two-fingered salute to his principal and followed suit.

Fiona’s anger with them when she found out what happened wasn’t nearly as upsetting to Ian as the realization that he would be missing the baseball tryouts that were taking place the next week.

Now, a year later, Ian knew that his chances of making Junior Varsity were slim, as his fellow sophomores who had made the team in their freshman year already had an advantage to him. Still, his fear of failure didn’t shut him down, but rather pushed him to try harder and succeed. Ian had been practicing after school every day at the baseball diamond near his house ever since it started to warm up outside, and he was confident that he had a lot of potential that could be unlocked with the help of a pitching coach other than himself and Google.

For the rest of the day, Ian was back to his regular, upbeat self, socializing in every class and trying to make time go by as quickly as he could until the end of the day. When the bell rang in his last period class, math, Ian got up almost instantly and made his way to the phys ed department to sign up for tryouts. By the time he got there, there were already quite a few names written on the list pinned onto the bulletin board. He didn’t recognize any of the names, except for Steve Marullo, who was one of the thugs that pays Lip to write his essays. _Great_.

“Figured I’d find you here,” said Lip, walking up to him with Karen Jackson on his arm. Lip told Ian that they’re ‘just friends’, but somehow Ian doubted it. “Steve Marullo,” Lip mused sarcastically, scanning the list. “I don’t even think you’d need any other players if he’s on the team.”

“He keeps trying to get with me,” Karen smirked. “I’d be totally down for it if I was into the smell of feet.” Ian grinned, and so did Lip, but Ian didn’t miss the look of relief on his face. Definitely not ‘just friends’.

The three of them left school and walked home together, joking about Steve and their teachers until they reached Karen’s house and Lip ditched him to go inside. Ian was invited, too, but he had to go to work. Then again, Ian was pretty sure he would’ve declined the offer anyways, since third-wheeling wasn’t exactly his idea of an afternoon well-spent. Not only that, but Karen’s mother seemed a bit strange, despite her kindness. Of course, it’s not as if he could judge her considering his _own_ family.

He walked to the Kash and Grab, thinking about the tryouts the entire time. The thing was, it had been a year since Ian had played on an actual baseball team, because he’d never been able to afford to play outside of school. This team would be his first (and possibly last) opportunity to play on an actual team for the next three years. Sure, he’d pitched to Lip, Carl, and even Debbie when they occasionally went down to watch him practice, but it wasn’t the same as a batter with training. If he was honest with himself, his middle school coaches weren’t very qualified, and his real worry was that all these years he’d been pitching wrong, and a knowledgeable coach would take one look at him and give up.

If he thought like that, he knew that the worry would eat him alive until Friday. He had to believe that his efforts were enough, and he was good enough to make the team.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside of the Kash and Grab. When he opened the door, Kash, the owner of the store, was sitting in front of the register and arguing with his wife, Linda, about who-knows-what while their two children watched. When they heard Ian walk in, their intense discussion died off and Linda instructed him to move the drinks that just came in into the refrigerated section.

Ian’s thoughts were elsewhere as he counted how many beers the store had in stock, and he ignored the way Kash stared at him when he thought he was out of Ian’s line of vision in favour of daydreaming about playing in the MLB. Well, maybe just his high school team first. Baby steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I dropped the ball on this fic for over a /month/, but I've been really busy with school and softball, and I wanted to (almost) completely sort out the plot of this fic before I moved forward. Sorry about the lack of Mickey, but he's on the way soon! I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter (even though it's kind of short, feedback would be awesome) and are looking forward to the next one (and a more regular updating schedule aha) as much as I am! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the prologue of the gallavich fanfic that you never knew you wanted (I did but couldn't find one aha)! This is my first shameless (and multi-chaptered and ao3) fic, so please leave feedback!!! Hope you enjoy :)


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